Page 26 of Unapologetic Obsession
There was still one problem Dr. Maxwell had overlooked. “I don’t have the money to be a guest on this boat.”
“We’ll work something out.” His voice sounded convincing as he restarted his efforts to feed me. The clinking of silverware filled the space between us as he reached for utensils, and in the silence, I listened to the waves crashing against the boat rhythmically.
This boat looked like a million bucks, and renting a room probably cost just as much. It would take the rest of my life to work off the debt.
“Maybe I can get a job on the boat and work off the debt,” I offered, though I had no idea what skills I possessed, and if Ihad to guess, even the maids’ quarters on this boat were a luxury commodity.
He shook his head. “Your only job is to get better.”
My shoulders hunched. I had nothing to offer without a job. I didn’t even have clothes on my back to trade for a room, and I had no right to expect a free ride. The doctor had already been too generous. He had given me room and board and free medical care in exchange for what?
The verbal diarrhea started before I could pump the brakes. “Why are you doing this for me? Why take care of me when I have no way of repaying you? Why did you break that deliveryman’s hand when I was the one who snuck in? I was in the wrong. Why not dispose of me instead of hurting one of your own guys?”
“Because.” With his eyes fixed on my mouth, his thumb glided across my bottom lip to wipe away excess juices from the gelatin. His deadpan face was softer than usual, a rare glimpse into an unguarded moment, as he said, “You’re the furthest thing from disposable.”
The words tugged at something deep inside me, simultaneously breaking and mending me. Since waking up, he had been the first to show me I wasn’t disposable. The realization burned like a hot blade, closing the wounds in my soul. Something terrifying dawned on me as he continued to feed me.
I believed him—I was the furthest thing from disposable to him.
Chapter
Ten
ROSE
After I ate every bite—Jell-O,fruits, a yogurt, and a blueberry muffin—he left to put away the cart. I considered everything we had discussed.
The good news? I was safe from harm unless I was the most unfortunate person on earth and the man chasing me had also boarded this boat. Roaming the cold streets with unbearable hunger and a killer on the loose was unappealing.
The bad news? At some point, I would have to evacuate the medical suite for paying customers who may fall ill. Without money or a job, it was impossible to rent a cabin on this luxurious boat. I only had a place to sleep as long as Dr. Maxwell vouched for me. The way he had said,“You’re the furthest thing from disposable,”made it sound like he wouldn’t get rid of me, but what motivation did he have to keep me around? It wasn’t like he was romantically inclined toward me or anything. Right?
He would be out of my league even without another woman in a five-hundred-mile radius. On a scale of one to ten, the doctor was a twenty. And that wasbeforehe took his shirt off last night. If those magazine articles were any indication, women knew it, too. He had endless choices. The classdistinction between us was vast, and we were nowhere near being equals.
“Good morning, ma’am.” A cheerful voice stopped my emotional spiral.
An unfamiliar man stood at the doorway. He was young and dressed like one of the crew members from yesterday.
“I brought toiletries for your bath,” he said with a kind smile.
Amelie mentioned she would order toiletries for the room, but I assumed she had forgotten about it since I never saw her again.
“I didn’t receive a list, so I included one of everything.” He stashed a white shopping bag on the nightstand, listing off all the items inside: shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, face wash, lotion, deodorant, toothbrush set, shaving kit, sunscreen, comb, cotton swabs.
“Thank you,” I murmured, marveling at the bag. It was made of thick material with a glossy finish. Olympus was carved across its belly in gold font, and the handle was adorned with a fake butterfly. I never knew a shopping bag could be so beautiful.
“If you need anything else, my name’s Jace.”
“Jace,” I echoed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his shirt crisp and perfectly tousled golden-brown hair framing his pleasant face. Was everyone on this boat required to look a certain way? As if good looks weren’t enough, they were also the epitome of professionalism.
The fact that he kept calling mema’ammade me giggle. “I’m not a ma’am.” I laughed. I think I was in my early twenties, and there was no way he was much older.
“My apologies, ma—miss,” he corrected himself.
“Please, call me Rose.”
“Yes, Miss Rose.”
